by Lucia Franco
"Come here," I say, waving two fingers at him.
James leans over me while still straddling me from behind. I cup the back of his head and pull him to me so I can feel his lips on mine. I kiss him once and his mouth opens, allowing me to slip my tongue inside and lay it against his. I give it a little sensual tug and lean into him as I do. James returns the kiss ten times better, then moves off me so he's on his back and I'm hovering over him. I hitch my leg up to rest on his inner thigh, my knee laying against his heavy sack. I scoot closer to him and peer into his glossy eyes, immediately desiring more when his thick thigh presses against my wet pussy. Sensing my arousal, James applies pressure.
"I love you," he whispers. His hand fists my hair and he studies me like I'm the eighth wonder of the world
"I love you more." I give him my usual response.
My heart beats wildly as an array of emotions fill me. Sometimes it scares me how much I love James. Occasionally I'll wake up in the middle of the night sweating, panicking in my sleep that I won't have enough time to love him.
"What's wrong?"
I shake my head. I don't want to tell him my thoughts, even though it's something I think about a lot. I love this man more than I love my own life, and I can't imagine a world without him. A world where I don't get to love him the way I want to. The way he needs to be loved.
"Nothing. I'm just really happy I get the man I love all to myself for the next few days. It’s just you and me, babe."
He's quiet for a moment. His fingers are brushing over my jaw and I lean into his hand. "I've been wanting to ask you something."
I smile into his palm. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"How would you feel if I sold my brownstone and we bought a house together? Say, in Bergan Beach?"
I pick my head up and look at him, my brows drawing tight. Within six months after we got back together, I moved to Brooklyn Heights to be with him. We’d spent two years apart and didn't want to waste any more time than we already had. It only made sense since we were at each other's home every night anyway. He offered to come live with me, but I knew being in Brooklyn was better for him, so I’d packed up the cats and moved in with him.
I kept my grammy’s house, though. I can't bear to let it go, but I hate to see it empty too, so I use it now as a transitional home for those in my shelter who've taken the steps to get on their feet. There's no charge for rent, just utilities. They have to start somewhere. Living in New York is extremely expensive—one of the priciest places to live in the world—and I want to give these women a chance they deserve. There are strict rules they have to follow, along with monthly check-ins, but I know my grammy would've loved it and that makes me feel good inside.
My brows deepen. "Can I ask why?"
"I picked that place out, had a decorator come in and spice it up. We didn't pick anything out together, and I want something we both love that's only ours." His tongue slips out over his bottom lip, like he's hesitating. "I want us to have a place to call our own, where we can continue creating more moments. I want everything with you, Aubrey. A marriage, a home. I'm in this for life, sweetheart, and I'm ready to take the next step with you."
Three
My eyes soften at his words.
I didn't think it was possible for my heart to grow any bigger with love for this man, but clearly I was wrong. I'm smiling from ear to ear so hard my blushed cheeks are aching.
"James Riviera, how are you the sweetest man in the world?"
Creases form between his eyes and the muscles in his body stiffen. That isn't something I expected.
"I'm serious, Aubrey. You're my life and I love you. I want us to be more, and I think buying a new home that's ours is a step in the right direction."
I giggle from how adorable he is. I can't help it. Sometimes men are so dumb it's painful. James is getting worked up for no reason.
"Babe?"
He doesn't respond. James is lost in his stare and I giggle again at how hard he's thinking. He can't possibly think I feel any less for him, right?
Sliding my leg higher on him, I hook his thigh with mine and twine our limbs together. My palms skim over his heavenly chest, then to his arm where he had a map of the world tattooed when we got back together. It was expertly done with a fine needle and black ink, and spans from the top of his shoulder down to his wrist.
He documents all our moments that are important to us. Every single place he's taken me that’s brought us closer together, he’s had inked onto his body forever. I still remember the day he came home with his arm bandaged in white gauze and plastic wrap. He hadn't told me he was getting it done and wanted to surprise me. Surprise was an understatement. James permanently inked the arm he was saving for only us. I've been wanting to surprise him with a tattoo of my own, I just haven't figured out what I want to do yet. I want it to mean something to the both of us the way his do.
I pick up his wrist and kiss the place where his pulse is. I gaze at it with softness, then thread his fingers with mine. My thumb caresses my favorite inked moment by far—the day he told me he loved me for the first time. We weren't anywhere romantic, or had a special trip planned. In fact, we were right in the middle of Manhattan getting Chinese food in the dead heat one summer evening when he said it. Our order hadn't been ready for pick up yet, so we'd been standing on the busy street with his back to the wall and me in his arms taking in the perfect Instagram-worthy sunset. The fiery amber ball burned between the skyscrapers as it descended, illuminating the buildings with a breathtaking glow. This wasn't just an ordinary sunset anyone could see as they walked through the concrete jungle. I'd remarked on how incredible it was and that I'd never seen the sun between the buildings like that before, how it made one appreciative of how beautiful life really is. James told me it was actually Manhattanhenge, and it's when the sun aligns with the city's street grid to produce—and fit—the perfect setting sun only four days out of the year. It was larger than life, and the heat flowing around the outer rim could be seen when "I love you" came out of James's mouth. It was so natural and just right, and it ended up being the first tattoo he got for us—a sun that overlooks his map. I glance at the sun inked in warm hues of orange and red over his pulse and smile softly at the memories I hold so dear behind it.
My knee nudges his erecting cock. "James, I love that brownstone. I love being there with you, I love walking up the street to our home and taking in the flowery landscape that people don't typically associate with living in the city. If you want to sell it, then we'll sell it and buy a new home. I want what you want. But don't think for one second that it bothers me you had it before I came back into your life." I pause, an idea springing to mind. "What if we get rid of everything your decorator bought, and we go shopping together. We'll create our own little oasis. If you want to redo the whole damn unit and tear everything out, we can do that too, but I'm happy there and I really love it."
His frown deepens. "You do?"
I nod. "I do, but if you'd rather us have a new place, we can do that too," I say, then something dawns on me. My head tilts to the side and I ask, "Do you want to sell it because you purchased it during a low point in your marriage and it reminds you of that?"
James has been divorced for four years now, but he spent more than twenty years in a somewhat unhappy and unwanted marriage. Now I can see why he's considering selling it.
"A little bit."
A soft smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Then we're selling it. End of discussion. When we get home, it's going on the market immediately. But, James?"
"Yes?" His body relaxes a little, and I clamp my teeth onto my bottom lip.
"I'd like to stay in Brooklyn Heights, or in one of the surrounding neighborhoods… like Williamsburg, or even Park Slope, and in one of their brownstones. I never thought I'd live in Brooklyn, but now I can't imagine not living there. It's our home, where my heart is, where we have so many incredible moments together. I don't want to leave them behind."
&nbs
p; James scoots up to a sitting position and takes me with him. He wraps a strong arm around my lower back and tugs me up until I'm straddling his hips and our bodies are flush together. My nipples graze over the soft dusting of hair on his chest. A purr escapes me and I drape my arms over his shoulders and look him in the eyes.
"A compromise I can work with," he says, a hint of a smile pulls at his lips. "I assumed you'd want an actual house one day like most women, the whole white picket fence and all of that."
I grin and brush a hand down his beard. "I think we both know by now I'm not like most women."
He chuckles and the sound causes my belly to flutter. "Thank fuck for that. I love you the way you are, sweetheart, and I wouldn't change a fucking thing."
I'm really fortunate to have a man who accepts all my flaws and sins… and not give a damn about all the men I fucked when I was an escort. I don't hate that part of my life because it brought James to me, but sometimes I have regrets because of the things I did for money.
"Then it's settled."
"I just want you to be happy," he says, and it makes me mushy for him. He's such a romantic at heart.
"Well…" I begin with puckered lips and flirtatious eyes. "There is one thing I need that would make me really happy."
"Anything," he says against my lips.
My heart is beating so fast for this man that I seal my lips to his in a bruising kiss and he takes it. He's my every heartbeat, my every breath. God, I love him so much. I draw in a quick breath through my nose as I tighten my arm around his neck while my free hand holds his jaw. My large breasts are pressed to his chest. Our tongues tangle around each other’s as the desire we feel envelopes us as one.
"Make love to me," I whisper.
"I already told you, sweetheart. I've been making love to you the whole time."
James reserves his charming side for when he's in a loveable mood like this, but I know deep down he's serious about what he said.
His palm connects with my thigh and I feel a little zing zap through me. "Lift up." I rise to my knees and James grips his cock in his hand, angling it at my entrance. He peers up at me with a burn in his eyes that says he's at my mercy.
"Now take all of me," he says, and I do, sinking down on him in one good, long stroke. My head rolls back and I exhale a pleasure-filled sigh. Sometimes we forgo foreplay because I like the feel of him stretching me. It's an automatic given that he likes it just as much.
One would think with a boyfriend James's age that sex would slow down or it would be hard for him to get it up, but it's the complete opposite. Sometimes it's me who can't keep up with him. He has so much testosterone flowing through his veins that our lovemaking grows more manic each and every time. There’s an abundance of passion flowing from his touch to the way he kisses me with hunger. I'm addicted to him and can't get my fill.
"Stay down," he demands with his hands on my hips.
My inner thighs are quivering as I try to loosen up to accommodate his width. Sometimes he slides in and bangs me, other times it's a little tight at first. I wonder if I'll ever be able to fit him without pain.
"Then kiss me and make me forget how your cock is stretching my pussy out and tearing me from hole to hole. You're going to give me a gaping vag one day."
He grins and I try to fight mine. "Such a filthy fucking mouth."
"You love it."
"Fuckin' right I do," he says, then kisses me. After a few strokes of his skillful tongue, I'm slow riding him.
James is still in control with his arm around my hips, allowing me to only rise halfway up his erection. I love it and hate it because all I want to do is fuck him wild but he's setting a pace that will drive me into a frenzy for him. It’s sublime torture on my clit and I cry out. He's hitting it but he's not. Teasing me until my heart is racing a mile a minute and pleasure begins to set in at the tips of my toes. My nails score his skin and he purposely starts fucking me from the bottom, thrusting deep inside my pussy. James groans, and I feel the vibration from his chest against mine.
"It doesn't get better than this," I say.
He chuckles, his warm breath tickling my neck. "You say that every time."
"And every time it gets better. You're like fine wine, James. You get better with age."
"I prefer cognac," he says, and I laugh. "One day," James says, his breath hitching, "I'm going to make you my wife, Aubrey. I hope you're ready, sweetheart, because I'm not taking no for an answer."
"James," I whisper, then gasp when he plunges in deep, holding me to him. My hips angle into his and he leans over with my thighs molded to his, holding us up with one hand flat to the bed. James rears back and slams into me. His lovemaking becomes needy and his hands are groping every inch of my bare skin. This position couldn't be more perfect for us to come together. He’s striking my clit and pounding into my wet pussy while he angles my hips to reach a deeper spot for himself. He's going to leave bruises on my body when he's done from how hard he's gripping me. Everything becomes an afterthought when that first prick of euphoria assaults me in the highest way possible. We don't conceal our lust, instead we allow any sound to express how we feel when we're this deep into the moment.
My heart is racing double time now. I don't need a piece of paper to know that he's mine and I'm his. We already know that. There's no reason to put a label between us. We have a good thing going. Why ruin it?
Some of the best and longest lasting relationships are ones without any type of label.
I don't want marriage, and I hope that’s something he can understand. I love him and he loves me. That's all that matters.
Right?
Four
I'm not a fruity drink kind of girl, but I am on vacation.
I like to try all the touristy drinks and foods native to the country we're visiting because I know when I go home, no matter what I do, I'll never be able to recreate it. Manhattan is thriving with just about every kind of cuisine one could want, and while I'm not complaining, it's just not the same.
Tahiti has a drink native to the island called The Tahiti. I laughed over the name at first, until James reminded me there's a Long Island iced tea and a Manhattan Special where we live. Whatever, all I know is it has pineapple-and coconut-infused juice with some rum that's made here and a sprinkle of ginger. It's delicious, and I'm on my third and feeling amazing in my man’s arms.
James and I are sitting on the beach under a massive umbrella in a lounge chair together. I'm between his legs lying back against his bare chest. I love to be in his arms every chance I can. When he came out of the bathroom earlier dressed in only board shorts that sat super low on his hips, I had to fan myself. He's too damn good-looking and his sexuality is way too damn alluring. I told him I want to chain him up in our basement and keep him all to myself. He said he was cool with that.
James has his leg propped against the arm rest, his hand on my hip with the tips of his fingers under my bikini bottoms, lounging away with me.
I never want to leave here.
"Want a sip?" I lift the glass over my shoulder. I ask him every time and every time he takes a sip to appease me, even though he despises sugary drinks. I just ask to be nice, really.
"You're almost out. Do you want another one?"
I finish off the rest and place the tall glass on the round mosaic table next to us. My hands find his and I lace our fingers together, shifting so I'm laying my head on his arm. I kiss the inside of his bicep and snuggle up to him, breathing him in.
"James, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get me drunk."
I feel him shrug. He has no shame and I love that about him. "Two words. Drunk. Sex."
I giggle. Alcohol does one of two things for me: I'm either giddy, or I want to have sex. I pause in thought. Actually, make that three. Sometimes I like to drop it low and shake my ass.
"Drunk sex in the ocean?" I suggest.
"You're too wild for the ocean when you're drunk. I may accidentally drown y
ou."
I laugh and pick up my head to look at him. Laughter dances in his blue eyes. "You make me that way. It's all your fault."
He smirks and I feel it in my belly. He has no regrets. "You're welcome."
Reaching higher, I drop a quick kiss to his lips and sit up. I try to pull back, but he cups the back of my neck and holds me for a longer kiss. Sometimes I can't concentrate when he does that. Like when his thumb is pushed up under my jaw.
Grabbing his hand, I break the kiss and pull up to stand. I'm a little tipsy but not drunk.
"Come on, let's go swimming. I want to feel the water on my skin."
James’s eyes roam the length of my body, making sure he doesn't miss an inch of skin. He makes me feel so beautiful. So wanted. So loved.
"Sweetheart?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"When we go snorkeling later, you're not wearing that."
I glance down. I did pick a red skimpy suit to wear for him since I know he likes this color on me. My top is two sizes too small, making my C cups look even bigger, and I'm wearing a Brazilian style bottom that's very cheeky. Since I've gained a few pounds over the years, I think I'm leaning toward double D breasts, though I'm not entirely sure since I don't usually wear a bra at home anymore, and everything I wear when we go out already has proper lining.
"What's wrong with my bathing suit?" I ask, trying not to smile. "I picked it out just for you."
"You're testing me. I'm two seconds from ripping it off you."
I giggle again and take a few steps back toward the ocean. "You have to catch me first."
Turning around, I lightly run toward the beach. The sand is hot under my feet, so I run on my toes. The light crystal blue water reminds me of James's eyes and I smile. Just as I reach the shore, James wraps an arm around me from behind and lifts me up, throwing us both into the water.
I'm giggling as I go under and hold my breath. The cool water feels refreshing and I wish it was like this back in New York. New York doesn't have light teal water beaches like this. They're more murky and gray.
